I’ve been wheelin’ and dealin’. All I need is a cheap tweed coat with leather patches at my elbows and I could be dodgy salesman of the year. If someone says hello to me, I say, “Hey do you need a microwave?” or “You look tired, want to buy a chair to park your arse on?”
There’s only a month until we skip the country, so we’re selling a lot of our worldy goods. We were supposed to have a garage sale tomorrow, but I’ve managed to offload so much of our stuff to friends and people at work that there’s not enough left to have one.
We’ve had people fighting over furniture, minor bidding wars and one packrat Mothership attempting to hijack the whole event.
MOTHERSHIP: You’re not selling that toaster are you?
RHIANNON: Yes we are selling that toaster.
M: Can I have it?
R: You already have a toaster!
M: But my toaster might die! There could be a toast situation. I need backup!
This whole thing is so surreal. It would appear things are winding up, doors are closing. Our furniture collection is slowly eroding, the gym membership has expired, we’ve given notice on our flat, there’s moving boxes everywhere, they’ve found a replacement for me at work. I’m watching this flurry of activity with my usual absent-minded blahness and can’t comprehend that I am actually leaving.
And I don’t want to stop and think about it, because then the panic kicks in and I start running around in small circles, muttering what if i can’t find a job what if noone understands my accent what if all my friends forget me what if we can’t find somewhere to live what shoes am i supposed to pack?
BOSS: We just interviewed someone to replace you. She’s really good.
SHAUNA: Oh yeah? Is she better than me?
B: She’s not that good.
S: Well, good.
COLLEAGUE: Is she good looking?
B: She’s very good looking.
B: And she’s a snowboarder. Very athletic.
S: Bah! I can’t compete with that. I hate you all!